Fiancée I Don't Want to Lose (3)
My life was pretty much over. At this point, hoping for a miracle was no better than a thief's shameless greed.
"Lord Theorad, say something in your defense!"
Sorry, Esilly, but I already made my excuses. Just hate me in peace now. I'm used to playing the villain...
I let out a silent sigh without a word, and Esilly clicked her tongue in annoyance before rising from her seat. She shot me one last glare, then lifted her skirt and knelt beside the Elf.
"Stop picking up the shards. No matter how much of a slave you are, you don't need to obey unfair orders."
"N-no, don't... sto-op..."
"I know you're not doing this because you want to. Don't put yourself in danger out of needless fear."
She wasn't wrong. If only she'd said that to me instead of the slave, it would have been perfect. Contrary to Esilly's assumptions, the Elf was doing this of her own volition. Even now, with Esilly clinging to her, her eyebrows twitched in irritation—a stubborn signal to get lost. Of course, Esilly had no clue about her true feelings.
"How can anyone call this a life? Does the God of Light, who looks upon all peoples with mercy, discriminate by race? It's utterly heartbreaking."
That was definitely aimed at me. She wanted to accuse me of defying the church's teachings. But this was unfair!
"That's blasphemy, Esilly."
"Be quiet, Lord Theorad."
Zing. Her venomous glare was terrifying. I cleared my throat awkwardly and picked up a cookie. I tried not to show it, but my hand trembled. What man wouldn't feel downcast under repeated looks of contempt from the woman he liked? If there was a button for a painless death, I'd press it right now.
"This won't do. Elf, what's your name?"
"Eh? I'm Master's... sex slave..."
"I'm not asking for that dehumanizing title. I mean the noble name bestowed by your parents in place of the gods at your birth."
"I-I don't really know... Slaves like me don't need names."
"You don't even remember your own name?"
Esilly looked incredulous as she grabbed the Elf's wrist to pull her up.
"That doesn't matter anymore. Come back to the castle with me. There, you can live comfortably..."
No. That wouldn't work! Handing off the bomb was fine, but not to a count's family—that would be putting the cart before the horse!
I shot up from my chair in outrage.
"Esilly! That's going too far! This slave is mine—I bought her!"
"Ha? You think a scrap of slave paper lets you own a sentient being?"
"I may not own her, but I can claim ownership rights. Let go of my slave nicely while I'm asking!"
"Lord Theorad, you really..."
Esilly ground her teeth and released the Elf's arm, standing up. Her face twisted with mixed emotions as she held her breath, then let out a deep sigh and looked at me.
"Fine. Then let's do it this way. Whoever this Elf chooses—"
"I-I..."
Before Esilly could finish, the Elf grabbed the hem of my pants.
"I swore my body and soul to Master. Even if he impregnates me and throws me out on the street, I'll accept it. So I don't want to serve another master now..."
Thanks for driving home what trash I am to Esilly. You bitch.
"What..."
Esilly stared at us in stunned disbelief, then turned and walked out. Every noble step seemed laced with disappointment. The servants opened the door at the sound of her footsteps, and she vanished through it without a backward glance. She must have been furious.
"Hic. S-sorry, M-Master... B-because of me..."
Meanwhile, I didn't even have the energy to get mad. As I slumped back into my chair, Habid hurried over, sensing something was wrong.
"My lord, what on earth..."
He spotted the Elf on the floor, gathering glass shards into her maid apron, and me with my head bowed like a soulless husk. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Why is the teacup broken...? More importantly, are you hurt, my lord?"
"...I'm fine."
My body was unharmed. But my heart... my heart was shattered.
*
In the carriage back to the castle, Esilly rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the shifting scenery outside with clouded eyes.
Today's Theorad was definitely off.
The Theorad she knew was a gracious nobleman with a kind heart. He treated servants kindly and never spoke harshly even to slaves. Yet he wasn't spineless—he voiced disagreements firmly and confidently shared his opinions even before her count father. He honored his duties without fail, and his diligent attitude was a model for other nobles. He stood apart from those with empty titles and petty schemes.
Esilly had been drawn to those charms since childhood, pestering her father for the engagement. She believed he was someone she could trust for life.
So why?
How could a man of such impeccable character turn into a utter scoundrel overnight? Esilly still couldn't comprehend it.
Did that Elf enchant him?
The Elf he'd bought as a sex slave not long ago. She'd been angry about him choosing a slave over her, but she could endure it. Nobles keeping sex slaves at home was common enough. Even a man like Theorad, uninterested in women, needed an outlet for pent-up desires.
But when she saw the Elf at Deharm Mansion, jealousy had welled up unbidden.
She was beautiful.
Even Esilly, who heard "beauty" endlessly, had to admit it. The Elf's cascading silver hair gleamed like translucent silk, her red eyes sparkled like fine jade, her glossy lips and curvaceous figure were perfection. A succubus couldn't compare—a true elven allure.
Still, she decided not to show her jealousy. It wasn't befitting a noble. So she'd greeted Theorad warmly and said what she'd planned.
But then—
—You're perfect for a vulgar thing like that.
Theorad had suddenly insulted the Elf. It wasn't the man she knew. It felt forced, like he was acting a different role.
Hmm.
Esilly pondered why he'd suddenly acted like a tyrant. Was there a reason he had to?
Does he want to break off the engagement?
Impossible. Marrying a count's second daughter would elevate House Deharm's prestige and bring massive gains. In noble society, built on connections, marrying up was a sure path to higher status. Beyond that, Theorad had always shown her boundless affection—filling a carriage with flowers, casually gifting handmade crafts, even reading her his poetry in person just before she moved here.
It didn't make sense for him to change like this in a mere week. It was the epitome of inconsistency.
Then...
If not the engagement, the only one left for him to worry about was the Elf.
Master Theorad minding his slave Elf?
That was just as illogical. Neither seemed right, yet one had to be. But reasoning either way led nowhere. Her head throbbed.
Esilly frowned, closed the window, and leaned back against the seat.
I'll find out in time.
Soon, Theorad would enter the castle as regent. They'd have time alone to clear this misunderstanding and face the truth.
I won't tell Father...
Judging the whole from a single slice was foolish. Esilly decided to keep quiet about his disgrace for now.
*
Late that night, I sat before Father's statue, tearing at my hair.
"You idiot..."
Being kind to slaves would kill me? What nonsense. No matter how desperate for an excuse, I shouldn't have spouted that garbage.
It would have been better to claim the Elf had done something major yesterday and I was disciplining her. At least that might have averted disaster.
"Haa..."
Too late for regrets; sighs poured out endlessly. Someone once said regretting the past changes nothing—but that's for those who never made regrettable choices. The memories replayed unbidden in my mind. How could I forget? And the one I'd shamed was none other than my fiancée.
Our relationship, slowly deepening on mutual affection, had shattered in an instant.
Damn that Elf.
That cunning demoness had deliberately pushed me to ruin, severing my ties to claim me as her possession. No doubt about it.
I gnashed my teeth in fury, but nothing changed. She held my lifeline; my struggles were just playthings in her palm.
Still, I couldn't despair. The deeper I sank, the more it played into her hands. For now, I'd go along, but I had to relentlessly seek a way out. An escape would open eventually. Someday...
Someone extended a letter. The unfamiliar seal on the wax—what? I stared blankly, then realized: the slave trader's reply. Sent via witch express, so they'd answered immediately. Probably refusing the return.
"Ah, thanks for delivering the letter..."
Elated, I took it and looked up—only to feel every cell in my body freeze.
"Not at all."
The one handing it over.
"Master."
It was the Elf.